


Warm It Up

by bonehandledknife (ladywinter)



Category: DCU
Genre: M/M, Thonksgiving, heat vision, sorta comics, sorta not much fucks given on which canon, sorta smallville
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-19 21:20:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17009421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladywinter/pseuds/bonehandledknife
Summary: Thonksgiving prompt for OffhandBackhand: "Clark using heat vision for the MOST MUNDANE THINGS"





	Warm It Up

**Author's Note:**

> So remember how Smallville!Clark's heat vision came in as a direct result of boners?

Clark squints and thinks about Bruce’s codpiece.

Heat shot from his eyes and the last three of Luthor’s robots explode under two red beams, their debris falling harmlessly onto the park. Clark reminds himself to replace the burnt grass with some new turf.

It’s not like he loves Lois any less but Bruce is just. So accessible. Close at hand.

He may have accidentally Pavlov’d himself. He doesn’t use the heat vision that often, maybe, but he’s come to associate battles with battling boners as well.

“Efficient,” Bruce grunts into the comm as he landed and started picking through the wreckage. “Don’t co—”

“Come any closer. Yeah you’ve said that before.” Clark actually does listen to Bruce when he’s going over tactics. But if it was a choice between anyone else getting hurt, and spending up to a year in recovery, or him getting hurt and recovering by the next sunrise? Clark would put himself between his team and danger every time.

Luckily it wasn’t necessary this go around.

Cleanup went swiftly and in the middle of it Clark heard B breath under his breath, “Debriefing in the cave at 5.”

_Uh?_

—

Clark finds himself heating up smooth dark round stones and laying them in a row up Bruce’s spine.

He’s not quite sure how he got there. Clark lays a flat egg-shaped one in the dip, exactly centered between two back dimples and swallows dryly. The skin beneath it twitches at the contact, then relaxes beneath the stone in a way that makes Clark quite certain he hasn’t blinked for the last 15 minutes.

It started with, “Do you even know how your heat vision works? If you were able to blast through three of Luthor’s bots with a single look, why have you never done that before? What was different this time?”

This time, Bruce had upgraded his armor to something somehow even more body hugging, but with a slight sheen. It made his ass look _edible._

“You don’t know do you?”

Which made Bruce proceed to a full-spectrum analysis with charts and graphs, then precision testing, and then Clark was handed a stone and told to raise its temperature to exactly 127F.

What.

The Bruce proceeds to strip off the top of his armor.

_What._

“Well are you going to waste Alfred’s time and have him come down to apply the hot stones himself?”

“Um.”

“The computers need time to analyze and we can multitask during the rest of the debrief.” Bruce looks back over his shoulder. “Well?”

Clark applies the stones.

“Usually, the stones are massaged to help ease the knots.”

Clark does so, in a bit of a haze. Heating up the stones and massaging them into the points of Bruce’s back which were bunched up with lactic acid. Bruce makes _noises,_ occasionally, and Clark isn’t at all sure how he kept his head.

At last, Bruce’s back muscles were an approximate version of relaxed. And Bruce peers up over his shoulder, from crossed arms, “So, your heat vision increases in intensity in times of lust.”

“Wh—”

“You spent less time heating up the stones when I gave you stimuli, but the temperature varied more.” Bruce drops his gaze to Clark’s waist, “Even if you appear unaffected.”

“...the suit hides more than you’d think,” Clark admits.

“Does it.”

“Does yours?” Clark’s mouth says without him.

Bruce gives him a long, flaying Look. “Clark, do you think of me out on the field?” The Look contained a multitude of observations, probably of how often Clark glances at Batman before heat vision comes into play.

It’s the type of question that would drive lesser men away.

But Clark has always held up to Bruce’s tests, “Is that a problem?”

“...would Lois think it a problem?”

Clark grabs his phone from a small inter-dimensional pocket in his crest and doesn’t break eyecontact with Bruce even as he hits speeddial. “Hey Lois, so I’m talking to Bruce. Yeah? Yeah I’m calling in my exception. Ok? Nice. Yep! You have a great evening too!” He hangs up and returns the phone to its pocket.

Resumes meeting Bruce evenly in the eye.

“I see,” Bruce says. Measuring him with his gaze again. Then he chucks a small object at Clark’s head, faster than the human eye can follow.

Clark catches it. Looks down.

A container of lube.

“Well,”  Bruce says, turning to lay his head back down on his arms. The small of his back arches subtly and it lifts his still skin-tight armored, brightly-sheened, ass just a touch higher. “Are you going to warm it up?”

Clark looks down at his hand, looks up at that sight.

Steps forward.

  



End file.
